


Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

by peroxideblonde



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bonding, Bottom Kirk, Bottom Spock (Star Trek), Dirty Talk, Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Interspecies Relationship(s), Jealous James T. Kirk, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Pon Farr, Rough Body Play, Rough Oral Sex, Soul Bond, Soul Sex, Soulmates, Top Kirk, Top Spock, Vulcan, Vulcan Biology, Vulcan Bond, Vulcan Culture, Vulcan Kisses, Vulcan Language, Vulcan Mind Melds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 08:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15214910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peroxideblonde/pseuds/peroxideblonde
Summary: Story summary:I remember a grand total of two erotic-themed dreams in all my life, and this voyeuristic one happened last night. I haven’t even thought about Spirk since 2010, but here we are. Finally, I am honouring the original slash couple with some awful B-grade smut. I didn’t even edit.¯\_(ツ)_/¯Apologies in advance.Warnings (in case you missed them the first time): dubious consent, graphic sexual content, alien genitaliaExcerpt:Three days later, Kirk lay grinning in the Enterprise sickbay.“I don’t even know what to put in my medical log,” Bones grumbled, rubbing his forehead. “Ass destroyed by insatiable rutting vulcan? Grievous anal damage from too much green dick? Sheer stupidity?” Bones looked up and caught Kirk’s eye. “Yes, I think I’ll go with that one. ‘The captain has been hospitalized for sheer stupidity and related dehydration down on Vulcan’.”





	1. Hell's Bells

**Author's Note:**

> I’m supposed to be studying, but after over a month of 15-hour study days, I can only focus so much. 
> 
> Amok Time. What do you mean this isn’t what happened?
> 
> Excerpt:
> 
> “There is one thing that will restore thy Mr Spock,” T’Pau said. 
> 
> “What?” Kirk asked, staggering to his feet on rubbery legs. He wanted to seize the old bat-eared bitch by her glittering lapels and shake her. Bones helped hold him erect. “What?”
> 
> “T’Pring tells me he has touched thy mind.”
> 
> Kirk blinked. “He has?” What did that even mean?
> 
> “He did it while ye were asleep, to spare ye the pain of losing a loved one. T’Pring was astonished by the compassion and intrusiveness in the act. It was as much an eternal invitation as it was a mercy for thee. He has consented to a reciprocal act from thee.”
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “Whatever Mr Spock’s motivations, it happened. It means ye are the only person other than T’Pring who can see him through pon farr.”
> 
> Perhaps it was the thin air. Nothing seemed to make sense. “Excuse me?”

It had all escalated rather quickly, and Kirk would forever wonder if Spock had somehow foreseen the fiasco, though Spock maintained he had merely panicked, in his quiet vulcan way. Nonetheless, Kirk knew that if Spock had been more transparent, things never would have got to the state they had. If Spock had only said, “Captain, every seven years, members of my species become intractably sexually aroused and require intercourse, and without carnal relations at such a time, we become irrational and violent while taken by a blood fever, and then die,” Kirk would have arranged something, and he would have been able to do so with a cool head. Kirk did not doubt he would have suffered an unspecified number of sleepless nights thereafter, preoccupied by the thought that, if it had not carried with it the possibility of damaging their tenuous friendship and the certitude of professional misconduct, he might have offered his own body to Spock… Such a proposal would have been a leap from Kirk’s usually casual flirtatious remarks on the bridge, which seemed to whistle as they narrowly rocketed over Spock’s (silken, beautiful) black hair. Bones liked to refer to Kirk’s usual ambiguity-favouring tactic as “Schrödinger’s slut”; if Spock was receptive, a physical relationship would undoubtedly promptly ensue, but if he proved unwitting, or, worse yet, unreceptive, Kirk’s words could easily be excused as platonic if challenged.

Fortunately, Spock consistently appeared clueless, and so Kirk was ruthless.

But now, here they were, standing in the glittering sand and volcanic ash of Spock’s scorching home planet before a blue- (er, green-) blooded audience with a capacity for facial expression comparable to a Horta’s. Kirk barely grasped the intricacies of the current situation, which seemed to be that Spock’s betrothed had rejected him, and that Spock now had no outlet for his mating urges. Again, if Kirk’d had more time, he might have devised an elegant solution to the problem at hand.

All Spock would have needed to do was ask. Logical being that he was, something of the sort ought to have occurred to him at some point. Why had not he said anything until so late? Kirk had the impression Spock was more candid with him than with others, and yet it was Bones, _Bones_ of all people, who had first explained  _pon farr_ to Kirk.

Kirk, of course, had thought it a joke at first. 

*

“He has to have sex, or he dies?” Kirk asked, incredulous, when Bones, stuttering a little and mopping his forehead with a handkerchief, had outlined the vulcan reproductive cycle. Kirk, who had since starting his five-year mission become something of a vulcan expert, raised his eyebrows. In all his studies, he had never heard of pon farr or a similar phenomenon by a different name. Kirk was fluent in three dialects of Vulcan, had memorized one hundred fifty of the two hundred seventeen standard meditative mantras, knew by heart the anatomy of the average vulcan’s thorax, and could recite the timeline of vulcan-human relations back three hundred years, but this was the first he had heard of vulcan mating rituals beyond the fact that, like most civilised societies in the universe, gender did not impact the validity of partnerships on Vulcan.

Kirk’s lack of knowledge of the topic was not for lack of interest.

“Yes. To put it bluntly,” Bones replied.

Kirk laughed. “If this is your way of luring some poor girl—or boy, or whatever he’s interested in, if anything—into a night with our dear Mr Spock, I think you’re being…indelicate.” And unhelpful, Kirk thought, with more than a trace of bitterness. Schrödinger’s slut. Bones knew, without a shadow of a doubt. “He’ll be even more of a wretched grump than he has been the past week if he finds out the tales you’ve been spreading.” Kirk had long wondered about Spock’s predilections but had to admit he had no concrete evidence to support one claim over another. For all he knew, vulcans were aromantic and mated for the sole purpose of reproduction. But if Spock’s father was any indication… Sarek must be positively passionate by vulcan standards, Kirk reflected, though Spock had once quoted him as saying Spock’s mother was “Brutally illogical, even by human standards”, an unparalleled insult.

“I haven’t spread any tales, I’m telling _you_ , Jim, and only you,” Bones growled. “And if he knew, I’d be a dead man. Spock came to the sickbay three days ago, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was, well, anxious. Can vulcans get anxious? His heart rate was half what it normally is, and his blood pressure was down in his boots, anyway. Snapped at me a bit. Gave Chapel a shove when she tried to administer some fluids. His temperature was hot enough to bake either of our brains, but he always runs high. Told me he was getting a blood fever and needed to return to Vulcan, and since we were passing, couldn’t I ask the captain? He’s tried to re-route us twice. Chekov’s getting antsy.”

Drop off Spock on Vulcan and miss seeing him on the bridge every day? Never. “If he has a fever, treat the cause. There’s no reason for us to violate Starfleet orders—”

“Are you listening to me?” Bones hissed. Kirk always forgot how savagely defensive of his patients Bones could be. “He’ll die! He needs to go home. Besides, he isn’t responding to the few meds he consents to take.”

Kirk scratched his chin and frowned. He did not like to doubt Spock, but this was an exceptional claim. Sex or die. Absurd. There had to be more to it than that. “All we have to go on is Spock’s word?”

“Vulcans can’t lie.”

“He’s half-vulcan,” Kirk retorted. “And vulcan or human, we can all do whatever we like. Vulcans just generally don’t, is all.” 

“Don’t be an idiot. Even if it _is_ some sort of fairytale he’s cooked up to get off the Enterprise, he’s clearly got good reason. Could you imagine what it would take for him to say such a thing to me?” Bones mimicked Spock’s low monotone with eerie accuracy: “‘Doctor, I must return to Vulcan to engage in sexual intercourse, or I shall die’? I don’t think he liked the idea much; he turned awful green when he said it.”

Spock almost always looked a little green. Kirk considered things briefly and settled on a plan. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“You really shouldn’t. He’s testy. And you’ll probably tell him you know what he told me in confidentiality, which puts my job—and my life, the state he’s in—on the line.”

Kirk made for the sickbay door. “Is he in his quarters?”

“He specifically said he didn’t want to talk to you. He wanted me as a go-between.”

“Oh, is he embarrassed?” Kirk chuckled and continued down the corridor. He enjoyed the rare moments when Spock seemed flustered; it reminded Kirk he was half-human, and was therefore more susceptible to romance than his full-blooded brethren. “I’m afraid mere embarrassment can’t keep a crewman from his captain.”

“Jim,” Bones called in a harsh whisper, scampering down the corridor after Kirk. “Don’t!”

Kirk waved a dismissive hand. “You’re excused, doctor, I must speak to my science officer now.” Kirk, who knew Spock never locked his door, tripped the censor and strode into Spock’s quarters. The doors slid shut behind him, cutting off Bones’s weary, “Dammit, Jim.”

Kirk’s first thought was that Spock’s quarters were empty. He navigated the austere sitting area, making for the dark and still bunk, but froze when he rounded the desk and found Spock sitting on the floor, cross-legged and shirtless, his eyes closed. Kirk took a moment to admire Spock’s wiry frame; his severe, utterly blank (perfect) features; the gentle undulations of his flat (sexy) stomach as he breathed deeply; that little line of dark hair, stark against his pale skin, which trailed tantalizingly into the front of his tight, Starfleet-issued trousers…

“Hello, captain,” Spock said, without opening his eyes. Kirk bounced a little on his toes in surprise. He had believed Spock was lost in meditation. “I thought you might be around about now.”

“Dr McCoy tells me you have some sort of health concern?” Kirk replied breezily, deciding not to betray Bones.

“I doubt that is all he told you.” It was unlike Spock to be overtly aggressive, but there was poorly contained venom in his voice. He opened his eyes. “You are aware of my request to return to Vulcan, I presume?”

“Yes.”

“And what is the verdict?”

“No.”

Spock blinked rapidly a few times, the only indication of what must have been a profound confusion. It was, Kirk could not help thinking, rather cute. “Captain, I do not think you understand.”

“No, I probably don’t.” Kirk leaned against Spock’s desk and gazed down at him, tracing his lips in contemplation with the tip of his index finger. He watched as Spock’s eyes followed the digit, around and around and around… 

Spock shivered, and his gaze flickered to meet Kirk’s. “It’s a matter of life and death.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Is that all you have heard?”

Kirk tilted his head and let his hand fall to his side. “You can tell me anything, Spock, anything at all. If it’s some sort of family crisis, or—or, gods, I don’t know, legal issues?—we’ll support you. There’s no need to be embarrassed about it. We’re all human.” Spock’s nostrils flared. “At least in part,” Kirk added hastily. Spock’s humanness seemed to be a source of shame or, at least, annoyance to Spock, even when he was not enduring a moody spell. In any case, Kirk needed to hear the reason for the detour from Spock. If Spock could look Kirk in the eyes and tell him the outrageous story Bones had relayed to him, Kirk might just believe it.

And then they could work out a solution together.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard of pon farr?” Spock asked slowly. He was still seated on the floor, his back ramrod straight, his gaze downcast. Kirk felt his eyes bug and his heart accelerate in response to the term Bones had uttered. He shook his head slowly and tried to keep a neutral expression. “It is a time of great stress and…tumultuousness for vulcans. We are normally a very peaceful, logical, coherent people. But during pon farr…we are not. We are overtaken by base desires, the ones we ignore—or, rather, suppress—for years on end. We reach a point where these must be addressed. It occurs every seven years in sexually mature vulcans. You will not read about pon farr in any readily available information about my species. It is too private. We rarely talk about it even amongst ourselves. But I am afraid the time is upon me, and I must return home for a few days to address my…health.”

“I see.” Kirk ran a hand through his hair. He wondered fleetingly what Spock had done for his last pon farr, with whom he had spent it. An image of Spock, shirtless and bottomless, his back to Kirk, in the Enterprise’s steaming gym showers, flashed through Kirk’s mind. He had been curious then, for it had been early days, before Spock became so much more private, and Kirk was curious now. Spock clenched his fists against his knees, knuckles white, joints popping. “You told me it was a matter of life and death?”

 

Spock, looking a tad nauseous, for he did in fact turn rather green at the idea, inclined his head. “Yes. And when the blood fever overtakes the last of my faculties, I cannot guarantee I will not take others with me. If you will not allow me time on Vulcan with my partner, I must request you have me either strapped down in the sickbay until I die, or shot. Preferably the latter, as it will be much less trouble for you all.”

_Partner_. Kirk fixated on the word, but what came out of his mouth was, “This is insane.”

Spock raised a single sculpted eyebrow. “What would be irrational would be you keeping me from Vulcan.”

“Well, you’re right, I suppose,” Kirk said, nodding once. He stood straight. “To Vulcan.” He offered Spock his hand, intending to help pull him to his feet, but Spock looked at the proffered appendage with an expression of unfiltered disgust. Kirk, feeling he had been very blessed indeed that Spock had been so stoic up until now, retracted the hand, any hope of helping Spock through this trying time subliming instantly. Spock stood on his own.

“I shall be at the transporter in ten minutes.” Spock turned his back to Kirk and pulled on his black undershirt, then his blue Starfleet jumper.

“So soon?”

“I have barely any time remaining,” Spock said. “My sanity is scarcely intact.”

“I hadn’t noticed, to be honest.”

Spock looked over his shoulder and might have smiled at that. Perhaps he _was_ slipping. Kirk made for the door, then paused and glanced back at Spock.

“Who’s your partner?” Kirk asked suddenly, unable to stop himself. “I didn’t know you’re married.”

“I am betrothed, or the vulcan equivalent,” Spock corrected, still appearing as though he might vomit. He no longer met Kirk’s gaze.

“And, ah, their name?”

“T’Pring.”

Kirk nodded, his true question unanswered. Vulcan names were inscrutable. “And when was the last time you saw, ah, them?”

“We met once as children and were bonded. I have not seen her in twenty years.”

Her. A woman. Spock was betrothed to a woman. Kirk felt an odd tension somewhere in the region of his navel. “Right. Was it an arranged sort of thing?”

“Yes. Her family is influential on Vulcan. It took some convincing on my parents’ part for them to consent to a pairing with a half-breed.”

Kirk turned around fully. Spock finally met his eyes. “Then they are foolish. I hope their daughter has more sense.”

Spock flushed a deeper shade of green as a new wave of nausea seemed to overtake him. He trembled slightly where he stood, swallowed, and seemed to recover, though his cheeks remained verdant. Kirk, madly, realised in that instant he wanted nothing more than to help Spock into bed, spoon-feed him plomeek soup, and care for him until his fever passed. “I feel her thoughts, sometimes.” Spock touched his temple. Kirk had only a vague understanding of vulcan telepathy (an alternate means of communication Bones nebulously like to refer to as “vulcan hoodoo”) and was surprised to learn Spock’s mind might be split somehow between his own consciousness and that of another, usually many light years away. “I do not think she cares much for me. She expresses…dissatisfaction…with me, on occasion.”

“Over what?”

Spock, if possible, turned a darker shade of green. “It is unimportant. My human frailties, nothing more. Excuse me captain, I must pack. I will be at the transporter in ten minutes.”

“See you then, Mr Spock. I will accompany you down to ensure you arrive safely at your destination.”

“There is no need.”

“I insist.” Kirk took his leave. 

*

T’Pring was, needless to say, a woman of incredible beauty. And so it was with a bit of satisfaction that Kirk observed Spock’s dour expression did not change when he looked upon her at their meeting on the surface of Vulcan.

“Spock,” T’Pring said in greeting. Her voice was clipped and, in Kirk’s opinion, annoying as hell.

“T’Pring.”

Kirk thought it was a rather dry reunion for a couple who had been mind-melded for two decades. Or perhaps it was appropriate. Kirk tried, only briefly, to imagine what the rest of their day would look like, and, mercifully, failed. Seeing T’Pring breathing the same air as Spock was enough to make Kirk want to kick something.

After that, things got confusing. There was a gong, and bells (so many bells), and several other serious-looking vulcans present, and one in particular who seemed to draw Spock’s attention. He drew Kirk’s as well, for his ceremonial dress was so reflective Kirk had to squint to look at him in the bright orange sunlight. The man was silent but stood close to T’Pring in a noticeably protective and aggressive stance. Vulcan was unbearably hot, and Kirk perspired quietly at Bones’s side while there was a lot of back-and-forthing between Spock, T’Pring, and an older woman whom Kirk recognized as T’Pau, a vulcan politician renowned from here to MACS0647-JD. Kirk had never given it much thought, but he supposed Spock might just be a big deal on Vulcan.   

“Are…are we seeing Spock get dumped?” Bones muttered past his sweaty upper lip after a good half hour of this. Kirk was fluent in Spock’s dialect, which was the globally dominant one, and Bones was functional, but neither particularly liked expressing themselves in it. It was a picky sort of language, and it was very easy to accidentally state the exact opposite of one’s intent if a tone was dropped. The first time Kirk had elicited any sort of emotional response from Spock had been when he had attempted to greet Spock one morning in the mess hall, very early on their voyage. Kirk had thought he had said he hoped Spock had had a long sleep; Spock had reacted strangely, accidentally crushing the fruit he held as he stared at Kirk in stunned silence. In an atypical display of unreasonableness, Spock had refused to explain Kirk’s error to him before excusing himself to wash the pulp from his (long, elegant) fingers.

“Are we?” Kirk asked, pulling at his collar and trying to get some air on the windless Vulcan. No wonder Spock kept his quarters fifteen degrees hotter than any other crewman. Starfleet really needed to include shorts and t-shirts in its standard issue bundles, vulcan modesty be damned; Kirk did not care if he gave the crusty T’Pau a nosebleed for flashing a little ankle. “That’s what I thought was happening, but I wasn’t sure.” It had not been a language issue; Kirk just struggled to believe anyone would refuse Spock.

“I think she’s got a boyfriend. The beefcake in the mirror dress. Twenty years in Spock’s head and I’d run off with someone else at the first opportunity, too.”

Kirk rolled his eyes, oddly unamused by Bones’s joke, then remembered everyone in the vicinity had superhuman hearing. He mashed his lips together and resolved to say nothing more until spoken to by someone other than Bones. Bones, too, seemed to have sensed his gaffe when Spock shot him an uncharacteristically scathing look. Kirk, who had not realized Spock was capable of such facial dexterity, had to remind himself Spock must presently be half-mad with lust.

Which did nothing to dampen Kirk's own arousal.

Still, Spock in a state of mental and, supposedly, physical duress was shockingly calm. As the minutes dragged by, Kirk began to count the seconds between Spock’s blinks. He got lost somewhere after three hundred forty-seven.

“Is Spock in some sort of trance?” Kirk whispered to Bones, forgetting his resolution of silence. Kirk was starting to worry. Was it the shock of it all?

“I think it’s the blood fever.”

“The one that’s supposed to kill him if he doesn’t get laid?”

“Uh, yeah.”

For the first time since Bones spoke of the possibility of Spock’s death, Kirk felt true alarm. Before, pon farr was a quaint, abstract, perhaps sexy sort of extension of vulcan lore. Now, it was a very strange and dangerous biological phenomenon.

“What do we do?” Kirk asked.

“I assume they won’t just let him drop dead. They’re a compassionate people, for all their…quirks.”

At some point, T’Pau invited Kirk and Bones to leave. Both, indignant, insisted upon staying. There was no way Kirk would leave Spock as he was.

Once he had stated his intent to remain on Vulcan, Kirk glanced at T’Pring, who seemed to be handling her current celibacy with more awareness than Spock. Kirk felt a half-hearted respect for her if she was indeed in the throes of a rut of sorts. That was, until she pointed at him and declared in accented English that he was to be her representative in a contest.

“Sorry, _what_?” Kirk had slept with his fair share of non-humans, but he had to admit he felt no attraction to T’Pring. If anything, he felt a hazy sort of animosity in his breast whenever he looked at her. “I don’t think I understand.” Kirk turned to Spock. “Explain?” Spock said nothing. “Mr Spock?” Kirk pressed.

“Do not attempt to speak with him, Kirk. He is deep in the _plak tow_ , the blood fever,” T’Pau explained. “He will not speak with thee again until he has passed through what is to come.”

Kirk was glad Spock had left Vulcan at a young age, given those who remained into adulthood seemed to speak the sort of English spoken on Earth some six and a half centuries earlier, as though they had learnt from ancient, typo-riddled textbooks. It gave Kirk a headache.

“Right. So maybe  _you_ can explain what’s going on? Uh, ma’am.” T’Pau was important and required a formal address, but in the heat and thin air, Kirk had forgot almost everything he knew of Vulcan verbal etiquette. He fanned himself with a hand, aware this was a rude thing to do on Vulcan but unable to bring himself to care.

“T’Pring has selected thee as her representative in the _Kal-i-fee_.”

Spock emitted a creaky sound. Despite the heat, the hair on the back of Kirk’s neck stood on end and a swooshing sensation sweep through his stomach. “Nuh…” Spock said.

“Yes,” Kirk said decisively. He nodded once. The faster something was done, the faster Spock could get to safety. And if it meant hiring the first vulcan sex worker they could find—if there _was_ such a thing—Kirk had a satchel of vulcan credits at his disposal. Or perhaps he could logic someone into Spock’s bed. Heavens knew Kirk had managed to do so for himself on more than one occasion. “No, wait. Sorry, I don’t follow.”

“You are to fight Mr Spock for the right to T’Pring’s hand.”

Kirk blinked. “That’s an oddly sexist sort of way of doing things for such an advanced, intellectual society don’t you think?” Bones made a throaty sound of warning. “What if I say no?”

“Then T’Pring will choose another opponent.”

T’Pring looked to the hefty man at her side. “ _That_ guy?” Kirk asked, staring at the one in the blinding vulcan traditional dress. T’Pring nodded once. Kirk turned to Bones. “What d’you think, Bones?”

“I think that guy would destroy Spock in his current state, to be honest. Or any state, really. Spock might be three times as strong as us, but he’s only half vulcan. The average vulcan male must be stronger than him.”

Again, Spock made a queer, gritty noise. Kirk glanced at him. All the vulcans in attendance raised a single eyebrow. “My friend…does not understand…” Spock spoke as though with great effort. His tongue was burning, even Kirk could tell, and Kirk's body reacted accordingly. How could T’Pring just stand there, when Spock spoke with such passionate tones? Kirk licked his lips and reflected on the meaning of Spocks’ words.

Friend? Spock considered Kirk his friend? Kirk felt his heart thud harder against his ribs. “Whatever it takes,” Kirk said quickly.

“He does not know.” Again, Spock. Everyone’s heads swung from Kirk’s direction to Spock’s. Spock’s eyes rolled, his face was deadpan. Kirk had always thought of Spock as expressionless, but now he realized he had not seen Spock’s face truly blank until now. “I will do what I must, T’Pau, but not with him. His blood does not burn.”

“It’s fine, Mr Spock,” Kirk argued. He turned to T’Pau. “It’s fine. I’m ready. Whatever it takes,” he repeated.

“He is my friend,” Spock rasped. It was a strange thing, but for all the fire in his voice, Kirk thought Spock sounded almost pitiful. It made Kirk’s blood sing too. He was overcome with the desire to throw himself at Spock’s feet, kneel before him, take him in his mouth, taste him on his tongue—

“It is said thy vulcan blood is thin. Are ye a vulcan, or are ye a human?” T’Pau demanded, addressing Spock and interrupting Kirk’s inappropriate thought trajectory.

Spock stood stock-still, and his lips scarcely moved when he spoke again. “I burn, T’Pau…my eyes are flame…my heart is flame…thee has the power, T’Pau…in the name of my fathers…forbid…forbid! T’Pau, I plead with three…I beg…” Spock’s English had lapsed, and if the circumstances were not so dire, Kirk might have been charmed. Vulcan English was not so bad after all, he decided.

“Ye has prided thyself on thy vulcan heritage. It is decided,” T’Pau announced. She glanced at Kirk, and if Kirk did not know better, he would have sworn she looked him up and down and read him as easily as if his thoughts had been displayed on a PADD screen for her to peruse.

“Don’t do it, Jim,” Bones whispered. “You can’t.”

“I can’t?”

“No. She said that their laws and customs were not binding to you earlier, didn’t you hear?”

“I think I was too busy shaking the sweat and sand out of my ears.” Kirk glanced at T’Pring’s second choice of competitor. “You said Spock probably can’t handle him. If I can knock Spock out without really hurting him…”

“In this climate? If the heat doesn’t get you, the thin air will. Don’t do it.”

“If I get into any trouble, I’ll quit, and Spock wins and honour is satisfied.”

“Jim, listen, if you—”

“Bones, he’s my first officer. My friend. I disregarded Starfleet orders to bring him here. Another thing, that’s T’Pau of Vulcan. All of Vulcan in one package. How can I back out in front of her?”

After some obnoxious bell ringing by several of T’Pau’s entourage, T’Pau nodded once and raised her hand. “It is done. Kirk, decide.”

“I accept the challenge,” Kirk said decisively, even as Bones gave a cantankerous grunt.

T’Pau blinked in acknowledgement. “Here begins the act of combat for possession of the woman T’Pring.” The wording made Kirk cringe inwardly. Who knew Vulcan was so backward? “As it was at the time of the beginning, so it is now. Bring forth the _lirpa_.”

Kirk jumped when someone thrust what appeared to be a vicious-looking axe into his hands. “Wh—”

“If both survive the lirpa, combat will continue with the _ahn-woon_.”

Kirk almost dropped his lirpa. Something had gone horribly wrong. “What do you mean, ‘if both survive’?”

T’Pau addressed Kirk blankly as Bones silently delivered his first litter of kittens. “The combat is to the death.”

“Now wait a minute, ma’am, who said anything about a fight to the death?”

“These men are friends,” Bones cut in, unable to contain himself, “to force them to fight ‘til one of them is killed…”

“I can forgive such a display only once,” T’Pau said, with the same sort of flat tone as usual. One of her entourage held a wickedly sharp weapon to Bones’s throat. Bones, looking livid, fell silent. “Challenge was given, and lawfully accepted. It has begun. Let no one interfere.”

No sooner had T’Pau announced the commencement of what was certain to be Kirk’s last tussle than Kirk’s chest erupted in pain. He looked down at himself to see his shirt was in shreds and the skin of his chest was split from nipple to nipple. His blood was almost orange in the glow of the vulcan suns.

“Uh, Spock?” Kirk asked, his lirpa hanging at his side. He met Spock’s eyes and saw nothing, not even the dimmest spark of recognition. The blood fever had claimed him, and Kirk would have thought he looked sexy as hell if he were not so terrified.

What ensued next was the most brutal, draining armed conflict of Kirk’s life to date. It was all the more horrific for every time he looked at his opponent, he saw Spock, his…friend…all the while knowing one of them must die for the other to live. Kirk alternated between intense fear and anxiety as he dodged and ducked around what he now recognized to be an arena as Bones watched in silent horror and their vulcan hosts observed impassively.

Kirk did his best to evade Spock’s attacks while not reciprocating his aggression. Dodge left, jump up, duck low, dive right. Kirk tired quickly. He was sure he had already sweat out a tenth of his water weight and was feeling more raisin than man when Spock knocked him to the ground with one particularly savage blow. Kirk, wheezing, throat raw in the arid air, keeled over onto the sandy earth and then Spock was upon him, lirpa drawn high. Kirk scarcely managed to knock the lirpa from Spock’s grasp in time to prevent his face being split in two. He knew there was no use in trying to reason with Spock in this state, but still, he tried.

“Spock, please,” Kirk choked out, sand coating his tongue. He grabbed Spock’s wrists, struggling to keep Spock from pummeling him with his bare fists. In the ensuing skirmish, Kirk kneed Spock in the groin and was surprised to find this did nothing to stop Spock’s advances. If anything, it seemed to fuel them. Kirk was astounded to realize his stinging knee had acquired more damage than Spock’s genitals apparently had.

Miraculously, Kirk escaped from beneath Spock and managed to scuttle away from him. T’Pau called for a break.

“Is this what you call vulcan chivalry?” Bones demanded as Kirk tried to catch his breath. Bones draped a protective arm around Kirk’s shoulders, supporting him, and scowled at T’Pau. “The air’s too hot and thin for Kirk, he’s not used it.”

“The air is the air,” T’Pau said, with the sort of stoicism Kirk was starting to loathe. “What can be done?”

Bones pulled a syringe rom his satchel. “I can compensate for the atmosphere with this. At least it’ll give Kirk a fighting chance.”

“Ye may proceed.”

Kirk, still fighting for air, caught Bones’s eye as he prepared his hypodermic. “You’re going to have to kill him, Jim,” Bones said quietly. Kirk had no idea why they still bothered whispering.

“I could never.” Kirk’s stomach writhed with anxiety. He eyed Bones’s needle. “You’re not going to stick that in me, are you?”

Bones shot Kirk up before he could react. “Ugh, gods,” Kirk groaned, rubbing his neck. “What was that?”

“A tri-ox compound. It’ll help you breathe. Now be careful.”

“Right. Sound medical advice.” Dazed, Kirk let the lirpa be pulled form his grasp and replaced by a rope of sorts by an impressively muscled vulcan woman. Far before he was ready, he staggered back into the arena at T’Pau’s call, rope dragging. “I can’t even guess how this thing can be used as a weapon,” Kirk muttered. He promptly flipped arse over tip when Spock knocked his feet out from beneath him with his rope.

For the second time, Spock was upon him, and they were chest to chest, hip to hip, there was a knee between Kirk’s legs, there were hands around his neck, there was something hard and unrelenting grinding against his thigh. It would be erotic if not for the danger of it…or perhaps it was, because of the danger of it… The hands were squeezing, squeezing, squeezing the life out of Kirk, they were crushing his windpipe, cutting off his carotids and jugulars, he could not breathe, could not breathe, could not breathe, could not think…

Like an animal, Kirk pawed at Spock’s fingers, but even if the strength had not left him, he still would not have been able to bring himself to hurt Spock by clawing. In that moment, Kirk realised his preoccupation with Spock was more than infatuation; it was love.

Spock’s eyes rolled. His fingers loosened, and he collapsed onto Kirk, the dead weight of him restricting Kirk’s chest. “Bones,” Kirk croaked, thoughts thick and voice feeble. He still could not breathe properly. He pushed his hands against Spock’s shoulders and shook him as best he could in his weak state. “Bones, help us!”

Bones was the first to reach them. He fell to his knees at Kirk and Spock’s side and hauled Spock’s limp form off Kirk. Spock was rolled into the sand on his back and did not move.

“Jim!”

“No, not me, Spock!” Kirk managed to push the words out in little more than a frantic whisper. He was too exhausted to sit up. “He collapsed! I didn’t do anything to him, what’s wrong—”

“He has entered the deepest stage of plak tow,” T’Pau said, drawing up next to them. Her face was blurry above Kirk. “He will not wake. He has lost.” She beckoned to someone beyond her, and then T’Pring stepped into Kirk’s field of vision.

Kirk turned his head and gazed at Spock. They lay next to one another, face to face. Spock’s eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted. Kirk could not tell if he breathed. Bones waved a mysterious beeping portable medical scanner above Spock and frowned deeply.

“I have no idea what to make of it. His metabolism is one percent of what it normally is. His brain activity indicates coma. No, less than that…” Bones scanned Kirk next. “My tri-ox saved you. You would’ve asphyxiated without it.”

Kirk put a hand to his throat and addressed T’Pring. “I don’t want you.” The poison in his voice surprised him. This woman was the reason Spock was going to die. Kirk hated her and did not care who could tell. “Leave us.”

T’Pring turned to the shining man behind her. “Stonn, I will have you,” she said. Stonn held up his first two fingers. T’Pring did the same, and they touched their fingers together. Kirk had the distinct impression he had just witnessed something incredibly intimate. T’Pring and Stonn left.

“There is one thing you might not know,” T’Pau said as Kirk, head swimming, managed to sit with Bones’s help.

“I don’t know _anything_ about you lot,” Kirk grumbled as he massaged his neck. A great emptiness seeped into his pores, flooded his mouth and nose. It drowned him in a complete melancholy. _And so much he would never have a hope of knowing, now that Spock_ …

“There is one thing known to me that will restore thy Mr Spock.”

“What?” Kirk asked, staggering to his feet on rubbery legs. He wanted to seize the old bat-eared bitch by her glittering lapels and shake her. Bones helped hold him erect. “ _What_?”

“T’Pring tells me he has touched thy mind. It was this fact that convinced me she had a right to terminate their bond. Infidelity is a violation of the terms and agreements.”

Kirk blinked. “Touched my what?” He looked at Spock. He could be asleep, were it not for the terrible stillness of his chest. What did T’Pau even mean?

“He did it while ye were asleep, to spare ye the pain of losing a loved one. T’Pring was astonished by the compassion and intrusiveness in the act. It was as much an eternal invitation as it was a mercy for thee. He has consented to a reciprocal act from thee.”

“What?”

“Whatever Mr Spock’s motivations, it happened. It means ye are the only person other than T’Pring who can see him through pon farr.”

Perhaps it was the thin air. Nothing seemed to make sense. “ _Excuse me_?”

“I will leave ye with that information. Do with it what ye will.” And then T’Pau was gone, her entourage of men, women, and bells on her heels.

Kirk looked to Bones. “Do you get it? I don’t get it.”

Bones looked like he would rather be a farmer back in Georgia, sipping mint juleps and counting sheep. “I get it,” he said gruffly.

“Well?” Kirk cried, maddened by how reluctant Bones appeared. If he knew a way to save Spock, why would not he shout it out? Did he not understand Kirk _needed_ Spock, Kirk _loved_ Spock—

Bones looked down at Spock with a twisted lip, as though he had just chewed on a lemon. “Well now, I think you’re supposed to have sex with him. And apparently T'Pring told T'Pau he'd be OK with that.”

Kirk, who had suspected as much in the back of his brain but had needed someone else to say it, was completely at peace with the idea. He had thought enough about the possibility for years already so that when faced with the reality, he was mentally (and partially physically, thanks to Spock’s unerotic asphyxiation attempt) prepared. “Fine. OK. Whatever,” he said, still hoarse, feigning apathy.

“Whatever?” Bones roared. “He’s three times as strong as you! If he wakes up, he could kill you, Jim!”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take. For a crewman.” Kirk looked around and tried, with great difficulty, not to look too eager. “Here? Do we do it here?”

Bones, grumbling incoherently, pulled a digital map from his satchel. “Spock showed me where his home is before we left the Enterprise. I think it would be better if we beamed you both there. More privacy. I don’t know what would happen if some vulcans came upon you…copulating…in the middle of what appears to be a public arena.”

“OK.” Kirk, glowing in a just-escaped-certain-death way and itching to take action, whipped out his communicator. “Mr Scott? McCoy’s sending you some co-ordinates. I want you to beam me and Mr Spock there as fast as you possibly can. Over.”

“Right away, sir. Over and out.”

“Do you think there’s any lube on this planet?” Kirk asked. “I doubt that’s something Spock would keep at home. Or can vulcans make their own? I mean, from their own bodies?” Kirk was coming to realize there were endless possible differences between their anatomy and physiology, and it excited him. He assumed the parts were roughly the same, given the humans and vulcans could interbreed, but if such a fantastical thing as pon farr could exist…

Bones, once again, looked like he regretted ever joining Starfleet. “Oh, Jim.”

“Look, doctor, I’m asking you a valid question,” Kirk snapped. “I don’t want to injure him, and I only just realized today how little I know about vulcan biology.”

“It’s pon farr, and Mr Spock…well, forgive me, but he’s the dominant type during this time.”

Kirk suddenly went numb. “ _What_?”

“If I wanted to kill myself, I’d climb your ego and jump down to your IQ level. You’ve got to bottom, you half-wit! I’ve seen molasses flow faster than your mind works!” Bones, agitated, clawed at his own scalp. “I don’t want to even think about this! Join Starfleet, they said. It would be an adventure, they said.” He glared at Kirk. “Coaching my captain on how to be buggered by his science officer is _not_ the sort of adventure I wanted!”

“Oh, gods,” Kirk whispered. He had bruised his knee on Spock’s cock not fifteen minutes earlier. Kirk’s racing, howling thoughts were interrupted by his ringing communicator. He flipped it open. “What?” he snapped.

“We’ve locked on, captain. Whereabouts inside Mr Spock’s house should I position you?”

Kirk drew a deep breath, swallowed, and then sighed. “The bedroom, Mr Scott,” Kirk said, his voice breaking.

“I’m sorry, captain? Over.”

“The bedroom, Mr Scott,” Kirk repeated more loudly. “Send Dr McCoy back to the Enterprise. I’ll contact you when Mr Spock and I are ready to leave. Over.”

“Yessir.” There were a thousand unanswered questions in Scotty’s voice. “Over and out.”

“Call if you need help,” Bones said. Kirk nodded, knowing he would not. He would handle whatever happened on his own.

Shortly thereafter, Kirk felt his body dissolve, particles flung into space as they mingled with Spock’s.


	2. Green-eyed Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why study when one can write smut?
> 
> I deserve to fail, honestly. Posting without editing again to get it off my desktop so I can focus.
> 
> Excerpt:
> 
> Kirk pumped some lube into his left palm, coated his right index finger, bent over, and began teasing his entrance. It had been a long time since he had bottomed, having developed a taste for topping years ago, but he was not averse to the idea. Not if it meant saving Spock. Kirk would take a dozen vulcan cocks in his ass at the same time if it meant saving Spock. 
> 
> Of course, Kirk had this thought before he actually laid eyes on the first erect vulcan cock of his life. He reconsidered after that.

Spock’s bedroom was what Kirk expected. It was a Spartan place, with a low-lying bed wide enough for one in the centre of the room. There was a large, glassless window occupying an entire wall. It overlooked a river of steaming magma. There was a fireplace on the wall opposite.

Scotty had somehow had the finesse and intuition to beam Spock onto his own bed. He lay sprawled on his back, face vacant, trousers straining. Kirk tried not to stare, but then he realized they were alone. He stared openly.

Kirk would be lying if he said he had never thought of Spock in a sexual way. Of Spock against a wall, trembling and dripping, whispering Kirk’s name with the sort of bare emotion he never showed in real life… Of Spock’s lips around Kirk, sucking him, wet and thorough and uncomplaining as he was in everything he did… Of Spock’s ass, round and firm, rippling under a slap…

It was always abstract, a fantasy, something that would never come to be.

But in all of Kirk’s daydreams, he was a top. Spock was a docile, whimpering, wrecked thing, totally unlike the competent and authoritative man he was in the flesh. Now, as Kirk thought about how he was supposed to save his crewman (his friend…), he was overcome with uncertainty.

Spock was unconscious. He was not in a position to say yes or no. Kirk was not the sort of man who was comfortable with a quiet partner. He needed his partners to say yes, yes, yes, they wanted it, they needed it, they could not live without it (even now, Kirk could practically hear Spock’s cries of affirmation dredged from some recurrent fantasy)… Spock could not do so, given his current state. Touching him as he was went against everything Kirk was as a person.

Kirk circled the bed, running his fingers through his hair, distress coursing through his veins. Spock would die without sex, Kirk knew that much. But how could he bring himself to act without Spock’s explicit consent? Kirk drew up short at the foot of Spock’s bed. What had T’Pau said about Spock touching his mind? _It was as much an eternal invitation as it was a mercy for thee. He has consented to a reciprocal act from thee_. Kirk rubbed his eyes and dragged his fingers down his face, hoping against all hope Spock would open his eyes by the time Kirk looked at him again. He did not.

“Well, shit,” Kirk said, making up his mind. He set off in search of a shower. 

*

Kirk did not bother to dress after his scalding shower (there did not appear to be any “cool” or “cold” options in Spock’s bathroom). Spock’s house was empty and had been for a long time. Kirk walked naked through the dark halls until he returned to Spock’s bedroom.

Spock, against Kirk’s sincerest hopes, was as Kirk had left him. The only change in the room was that there was a huge bottle of lube next to the bed and a package of vulcan condoms.

“Thanks, Bones,” Kirk muttered. He came to sit at the end of Spock’s bed. “Spock,” he said softly. He rested a hand on Spock’s ankle and jiggled Spock’s leg. “Spock. Wake up. It’s Jim. James. Kirk. Your captain. Wake up. Please.”

Spock was paler than usual, and his breaths were few and far between. When Kirk, feeling self-conscious and intrusive, put a hand to the space beneath Spock’s bottom right rib, he felt the slow beat of a pulse there.

“Spock, I’m so sorry. I only half understand what’s going on, but she—T’Pau—she said you…touched my mind, and that that meant something… It meant I could ‘reciprocate’. Spock, I know this is invasive, and trust me, I’d rather this happened under different circumstances, and in a way where I could be certain this was what you wanted, but I don’t have a choice, not if I don’t want you to die…” Kirk pressed harder against Spock’s heart. He might have imagined it, but he thought he felt it pick up just a little. “And I don’t want you to die.”

Kirk looked at the dispenser of lube. “OK,” he said, feeling the need to talk himself through things, to give Spock fair warning, on the off chance he could hear anything. “I’m just going to prep myself, nothing fancy, and then I guess… We’ll give it a go. OK? Just hang in there a few more minutes.”

Had he really expected an answer?    

Kirk pumped some lube into his left palm, coated his right index finger, bent over, and began teasing his entrance. It had been a long time since he had bottomed, having developed a taste for topping years ago, but he was not averse to the idea. Not if it meant saving Spock. Kirk would take a dozen vulcan cocks in his ass at the same time if it meant saving Spock.

Of course, Kirk had this thought before he actually laid eyes on the first vulcan cock of his life. He reconsidered after that. He was not sure whether he could even take one without complaint.

Deciding not to waste any more time, and knowing drawing things out would increase his anxiety, Kirk did a sloppy job of relaxing his hole. He was prepared for it to hurt a little, but as he planned to simply straddle Spock and ride him to climax, he figured he could control the experience.

Nervously, Kirk pulled down Spock’s Starfleet-issued trousers. They had worked to restrain Spock’s cock somewhat, and it bulged more beneath the thinner fabric of Spock’s pants. Kirk made short work of these as well, but paused with them halfway down Spock’s thighs, for he was overcome with surprise when he looked upon Spock’s swollen, green-tinted, dripping member.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kirk said out loud. After a moment of silence, he reached again for the lube.

Kirk stretched himself further as he inspected Spock’s cock from various angles. It was, Kirk supposed, pretty. It was long, disturbingly thick, ridged along the head and ribbed along the length, and more alien-looking than Kirk had expected, but still recognizable. It was responsive to Kirk’s experimental touch, bobbing toward the ceiling when Kirk gave it a cautious stroke, and straining into Kirk’s palm as though it had a mind of its own.

The bedroom was hot, and Kirk was drenched in sweat, his insides empty and longing, his heart beating far too fast, brain buzzing and cock aching as he worked Spock’s cock. Spock seemed to like having his balls massaged, and he even gave a small writhe when Kirk kissed them. Kirk jumped at this and sat back immediately, hoping Spock would awaken from his deep meditative state. He did not, so Kirk resumed. Kirk stroked his own front a few times as well, his own already half-hard cock growing stiff in his grasp. Who said it had to be all business, anyway? Could not he enjoy himself while saving his crewman?

Eventually, when he knew he should delay it no longer, Kirk lubed himself up one last time for good measure, rolled a condom onto Spock, and then swung a leg over Spock’s slim hips.

“May you find the charity to forgive me in the future,” Kirk murmured, rising on his knees and reaching behind himself to position Spock’s cock in a vertical position. “I’m going to put it in me, I’m sorry, I—” Kirk pressed the tip of Spock’s cock against his entrance. It was burning hot, almost intolerably so. Kirk clenched his eyes tight shut as he bared down and lowered himself, cautious and unbreathing, onto Spock’s twitching and erect cock.  

“Shiiiiiiit,” Kirk whispered, fully hard now himself in the matter of a second. The push and strain of taking Spock inside was almost more than he could bear. Kirk looked down his back and saw he had only taken in the first quarter of Spock’s cock. “You are going to kill me with this thing,” Kirk muttered. He did not bother to stifle his cries as he eased up, then slid down a little further. “Fuck me, I’m going to die. I’m going to die fucking myself with the biggest dick my ass has ever seen. I mean, as far as ways to go, I guess that’s not so bad but try explaining that to my fam—ah, fuck!”

He was halfway down now, and Spock’s gently sloping cock was shoving into Kirk’s prostate. Kirk knew the sensitivity of his prostate went beyond what was normal, and the ridges, _oh_ the ridges… He gritted his teeth and took a little more. The soft orange glow from the bedroom window flashed to a bright white. “Ah, ah, ahh…” Kirk put his palms flat against Spock’s fiery chest. “I think I’m coming dry. Oh, gods, I’m coming dry. Oh Spock, oh gods, oh gods…”

Kirk’s knees trembled violently and then failed him. He collapsed down onto Spock’s cock, taking the full length inside of him, and emitted a raspy scream which, for some reason, he tried to muffle with his teeth against his wrist.

“OK,” Kirk said softly, a minute later. He had not moved. “OK. It’s all in. It can’t get any more than this, now can it? Unless there’s something else weird about vulcan biology, which, I guess, wouldn’t surprise me at this point… You could have a second one of these things hidden somewhere or something…”

Kirk began to rock carefully, each gentle knock of Spock’s tip Kirk making Kirk jolt. He gazed down at Spock’s face, and, through the haze of lust, thought Spock’s expression might be less severe now than it had been for the past while. “Gods…I don’t think I’d ever need to top again in my life if… You and I are going to have a heart-to-heart after this, Mr Spock.” Kirk rocked a little faster. “Heart-to-liver for you, I guess.” He increased his speed again. Where it had burnt before, Kirk now felt more pleasure than anything. “There’s no way you’re ever going back to being the distant always-professional ordinary science officer after this. I won’t allow it. I’ve been pining over you for two years now and it’s high time you acknowledged some of my outrageous flirtations for once in your damn life. I know you can tell, I _know_ you can. Stop fearing me, stop fearing your feelings!”

Kirk was not sure whether he imagined one of Spock’s eyebrows higher than the other.

Perhaps it was the heat, perhaps it was the low atmospheric oxygen. Perhaps it was the girth and length of Spock’s member. Whatever the reason, Kirk began to tire. As the exhaustion began to settle in, a feeling of wild desperation overtook over him. He could not tire now, Spock needed him! But what more could Kirk do? There was no sating Spock.

Practically crying, Kirk scrambled for his communicator without daring to extricate himself from Spock. Kirk dialed to the sickbay and felt a rush of relief when Bones answered. A conversation with nurse Chapel on this topic would have been awkward.

“Bones!” Kirk gasped when he heard his friend’s familiar grunt of greeting.

“Captain?” There was a long pause, filled only with Kirk’s tired deep breathing. “Captain, are you calling me…while you…”

“It’s not working! I can’t get him to—to—”

“Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a gigolo!”

“What do I do? There must be something I’m missing!”

“Oh, you ass. I can’t believe you’re using Starfleet communicators to—this is being recorded, you moron—oh, gods—James Tiberius Kirk—I swear—you are the dumbest, most asinine, stupid—”

“Help me! Help me or he’ll die!”

There was a great deal of southern cursing, swearing to return to Earth and never leave again, threats against Kirk’s body, declarations the universe was better off without one (horribly pronounced) S’chn T’gai Spock, and all the while the furious tapping of fingers against PADD screen, and then Bones heaved a long sigh. “I guess there are his hands. They’re a vulcan erogenous zone. I don’t know how powerful it is, but—”

A memory of T’Pring and Stonn touching fingers flashed through Kirk’s mind. “Thanks! You’re a lifesaver!” Kirk cast aside the communicator and grabbed one of Spocks hands. He drew it to his mouth and plunged Spock’s first two fingers past his lips. Kirk rose and fell on Spock’s cock, their skin slapping together with a sound that reverberated against the bare stone walls.

“Disconnect!” Bones screamed from the floor. “Fuck! Jim! Disconnect the damn communicator, don’t make me listen—”

“Disconnect yourself,” Jim mumbled past Spock’s fingers as he began rolling his hips again, hungrily sucking and lapping at Spock’s fingers. He pulled them out, licked the length of them, kissed Spock’s palm and wrist, then held Spock’s palm against his mouth and breathed heavily into it as he fucked down on Spock’s engorged cock, which stretched him to the brink of tearing—

When Spock climaxed, it was a deluge in Kirk’s ass, a flood of hot sticky fluid that slicked Kirk’s insides, poured from his taxed hole, and dripped down the backs of his thighs.

“Ahh…” Kirk heaved a tremulous sigh against Spock’s fingers and continued to grind, milking Spock for all he was worth. “C’mon, Spock, c’mon… Wake up now…” He gazed into Spock’s face. “C’mon, now, man, get up… Stop this…”

And, as though in response to Kirk’s pleas, Spock’s eyes flew open. Kirk was so startled he stopped where he was, halfway down Spock’s cock, which, despite Spock’s recent orgasm, was still hard.

“Mr Spock,” Kirk said faintly, a sensation of surrealism sweeping over him. His knees trembled with the exertion of his prolonged squat. “You’re awake.”

The hand which Kirk still held against his mouth twitched.

“Look, I know I might have some explaining to do—”

Spock held Kirk’s hand in a death grip.

“Mr Spock— _ow_ —I’m sorry if—”

Spock’s voice was ragged when he interrupted. “I heard everything.” Spock’s eyes glittered as they did whenever Kirk flirted shamelessly with him on the bridge. Kirk, still apprehensive but feeling his alarm abate, tingled with anticipation and hummed with the thrill of knowing that, all along, Spock had recognized the flirting for what it was. And had found it…exciting.  

Spock jerked Kirk’s hand to his mouth. Kirk, feeling a deep flush spread from his cheeks to the top of his chest, shyly slipped a finger past Spock’s lips. Spock closed his eyes and sucked, reaching with his free hand to put his first two fingers to Kirk’s temple, his thumb to his cheekbones, his last two fingers under Kirk’s earlobe.

One word, repeated not exactly in Spock’s voice, but rather, in something that felt like the memory of him, resounded in Kirk’s brain as it almost had earlier that day. _Yes…yes…yes…yes_ …

It was like a nudge at the edge of Kirk’s consciousness, pushing against the elastic boarders, which bent but did not break. A gentle, curious probe. _Is this OK_?

Kirk, confused, attempted a reply. _Yes?_

And then the same repeated thought. _Yes…yes…yes…James_ … An overwhelming feeling of adoration swept over Kirk. Not for Spock, but for himself.

Kirk marveled at his own narcissism. Where had that come from? What was this?

Spock continued to suck Kirk’s finger, and the boarders of Kirk’s mind bowed and swayed. The waves of adoration grew stronger, mutated, became something like love, but deeper, more obsessive, more intellectual. _Yes_ …

_Is this a mind meld_? Kirk asked the alternate presence. His barriers rippled violently, thinning beneath a more dominant pressure.

_Yes_!

Kirk pushed against the probing presence, striving to meet it through the weakening divide, helping it wear away at the substance separating them. After an agonizing moment of straining, the last of the walls around Kirk’s mind tore. He could no longer tell where his thoughts ended and the undulations of Spock’s smothering emotions began. For one so closed, so reticent and controlled, Spock felt deeply. He felt intensely for one person in particular, far more than Kirk had ever thought one being could feel for another…

_Oh, Spock_.

Kirk, being a human, knew he did not experience the touch of Spock’s lips against his fingers in the same way Spock must have felt Kirk’s tongue against his own. But the sentiment was there, and it echoed around Kirk’s brain, the shared, intimate space for him and Spock. _This feels good to me, it is something mates do… I want to do it with you_ …

Kirk jammed a second finger into Spock’s mouth. Spock moaned and took them all the way to their bases, Kirk’s free fingers splaying over Spock’s cheek. Spock’s hips canted up with breathtaking vigour.

_Tell me if it is too much. I do not know my own power sometimes and you are only a man_.

“Ahh,” Kirk half-sighed, half-moaned. There was no need to say it out loud beyond the aural and oral gratification Kirk craved. What must it sound like to Spock? _Music_. “Ahh, Spock…”

The room tipped—inverted—and Kirk was on his stomach, Spock lying flat against his back.

_Wow_ , Kirk thought, truly impressed. _You’re so strong_. He gasped when his hips were wrenched up and the burning tip of Spock’s cock pressed against him. He doubted he even needed more lube, for Spock’s cum was still viscous within him.

“I am afraid pon farr lasts at least two days, captain,” Spock said softly, out loud, as though a courtesy. It was less intimate, less insistent than a shared thought, and it let Kirk consider things alone, without the pressure of Spock’s desires. “Do you mind?”

Kirk exploded with laughter.

“Captain?” Confusion rebounded from Spock’s to Kirk’s consciousness.

“No, you idiot, I don’t _mind_ ,” Kirk said. Mentally he sent Spock a series of images, glimpses of himself from Kirk’s vantage point. Spock playing chess; Spock standing tall on the bridge, his hands clasped behind his back; Spock throwing himself in front of Kirk to take a hit of poisonous darts from a flower on a distant planet; Spock’s eyes glinting as he pretended to ignore one of Kirk’s flirtatious comments; Spock bickering with Bones as though to remind Kirk he was human; Spock meditating in his quarters; Spock awakening, partly, from plak tow, to everyone’s surprise, to call Kirk his friend ( _An understatement, I admit_ ) and try to save him from his own ignorance…

And then, finally, a wild series of Kirk’s fantasies of blowing Spock, being lifted by him, thrown into a bed, fucking him and, now, being fucked… A kiss on the lips… A touching of hands…

“I don’t mind,” Kirk repeated, “not one little bit.” And he was not sure to whom he referred when he said, “Lovesick fool.”  

*

Three days later, Kirk lay grinning in the Enterprise sickbay.

“I don’t even know what to put in my medical log,” Bones grumbled, rubbing his forehead. “Ass destroyed by insatiable rutting vulcan? Grievous anal damage from too much green dick? Sheer stupidity?” Bones looked up and caught Kirk’s eye. “Yes, I think I’ll go with that one. ‘The captain has been hospitalized for sheer stupidity and related dehydration down on Vulcan’.” He mumbled something about Spock needing to be more attentive do human water needs.

Kirk laughed, then winced. His ass was truly ruined for the time being. “Mmm, down on Vulcan…”

“Calm down, you horny bisexual, we’ll have none of that in my sickbay!” Bones barked. “And consider yourself lucky you’re still alive. I hacked an extremely rare article in Vulcan about a human who was literally fucked to death by their vulcan partner when pon farr hit.” There was a new bald patch on the right side of Bones’s head where he appeared to have ripped out some of his own hair in the past few days.

“So, so lucky…gosh, I can’t wait until another seven years pass. Could we just orbit a few months and then go back to Vulcan?”

“I’m not…that doesn’t even…Vulcans have biological clocks specifically in tune with the passage of their cells through the fourth dimension, regardless of spatial situation, not the land-level time zones of the planet Vulcan!” Kirk thought Bones sounded as though he was quoting Spock, but with feeling. And that feeling was, as usually, exasperation. “Seven years is seven years! Relativity does not apply to pon farr!”

“Damn.” Kirk did not think he would ever have Spock so open as he had during pon farr.

“I swear, Jim—” Bones fell silent when a pair of boots clicked over the tiled sickbay floor. Kirk tried to sit up, grew woozy, and then lay flat again, but not before he caught sight of a sheepish Spock. His green flushes, it turned out, were not indications of nausea, but rather, a copper-tinted blush. Spock, it had been revealed, blushed frequently around Kirk.

Kirk felt a now familiar ripple of sweetness and adoration at the edge of his mind. Outside of copulation, Spock’s mind meld was not explicit, but vague, though no less comforting. Kirk smiled and felt Spock’s pleased response though his expression remained severe.

“Ugh, this mind meld thing is disgusting,” Bones complained, turning his back on them. “Just keep it all in your heads, OK?”

Kirk chuckled and Spock, still acting shy and a little embarrassed (in his own way), crept closer. “How are you today, captain?” he asked quietly once he had taken a seat at Kirk’s bedside.

“Oh, you know…” Kirk glanced at Bones, who was now seated at his desk, apparently engrossed in another article about interspecies vulcan relationships. He was becoming an expert on the scant published material. “Sore. Bones won’t apply my salve, so my shoulder’s a bit strained from reaching…”

“I will apply your salve,” Spock offered, much as Kirk had hoped he would. A ruffle of protectiveness and care touched Kirk’s mind, and Kirk all but melted into his uncomfortable sickbay bed. 

“No, you won’t,” Bones screamed. “Not in my sickbay!” Perhaps not so engrossed, then.

“Then discharge me, and he can do it for me in my quarters.”

“I’m not discharging you when your mind is still so fragile. I don’t understand what exactly that jackrabbit did to you, but it’s turned your brain to mush. You can’t captain a starship in this state.”

“Aw, c’m—”

“Captain, he is right,” Spock interrupted, as though he regretted his agreement with Bones. “I can feel your mind is not yet ready to resume normal function. I am concerned I may have done things too quickly, too vigorously—”

“Yes, yes, enough,” Bones called. “I don’t need the mental imagery of you mind-fucking him…gods…”

If a vulcan could be said to roll his eyes, Kirk would have said Spock did so now. Once Bones had returned (most) of his attentions to his reading, Kirk cautiously extended the first two fingers of his right hand to Spock. Spock, if he could, felt startled, but he collected himself quickly. With the sort of schoolboy shyness that still surprised Kirk, Spock extended his own two fingers in return. They touched briefly, and Kirk was once again awash in Spock’s unfiltered emotions.

Spock left shortly thereafter to resume his temporary command of the Enterprise. Bones dimmed the lights in an attempt to encourage Kirk to sleep.

“What does that mind meld do to you?” Bones asked, as though in spite of himself. His arms were crossed over his chest and he appeared to be observing Kirk closely. “You seem to…disappear whenever he gets close. It gets tenfold worse when he touches you. Don’t think I didn’t see, by the way. I don’t think you should touch until you’re back to baseline. If you ever get there.”

“It’s love,” Kirk murmured, blissed out. “All I feel is love around him, and no one has a clue. It’s a powerful drug.”

“Huh. I didn’t think that green goblin had it in him,” Bones murmured.

“There’s a lot about him you couldn’t even begin to imagine, dear doctor…” Kirk settled back in his bed and smiled.

_Stop that, I am trying to focus_ , Spock’s thoughts drifted through Kirk’s mind.

_Can’t wait for Vulcan 2K-372, babe_. 


	3. What Goes Up Must Come Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Labels are for soup cans.
> 
> But Spock in TOS was totes a bitchy bottom.
> 
> Spock in the reboot is def a total top. 
> 
> Excerpt:
> 
> This time, Spock, who had not reopened his eyes, issued a low rumbling noise from within his chest, and his body seemed to vibrate with the force of it, which grew louder with every inhalation and exhalation. The sound was oddly soothing to Kirk, who held Spock more tightly and kissed his cheek, the desire to protect and pamper heightening. 
> 
> /Why, Spock, I had no idea you were part cat./
> 
> /Cat?/
> 
> /A terran species. Adorable. Cuddly. Pointy ears. Purrs just like you./ Kirk projected an image of a round-faced, fluffy-haired kitten to Spock. Kirk felt Spock’s scoff, something he would never do aloud, immediately. 
> 
> /I am not purring,/ Spock replied, almost haughtily. /What you hear is a nah-ki-la./ 
> 
> /What’s that?/
> 
> /A noise of contentment and affection issued by vulcans in private, usually only with their mate./
> 
> /So, a purr./ 
> 
> /No. Nah-ki-la./

Kirk had his fantasies of a submissive, whimpering, willfully weak Spock. He’d had them for years. They had occupied his thoughts nearly every night since the start of their mission, and since Spock’s pon farr, they had become more vivid, more detailed, more… _anatomically accurate_ and _culturally sensitive_. And since their mind meld, Spock knew about them too.

But since their mind meld, Spock had grown increasingly reluctant to touch Kirk. They had not so much as held hands for longer than three seconds since Spock’s pon farr.

“Aw, c’mon,” Kirk mumbled one night as he sat next to Spock on the edge of Spock’s bed. He had made to take Spock’s hand, but Spock had pulled away. They normally slept in their own rooms but liked to visit in one or the other before retiring to bed. From what Kirk could gather through the meld, Spock had considered his pon farr a messy necessity that had hastened the inevitable revelation of one another’s feelings, but it did not mean they had achieved the level of intimacy required for that sort of totally cognizant physicality on a regular basis just yet. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Spock sat rigidly, gaze averted.

“Even if your body language didn’t show to the contrary, the meld means I know with certainty.” Kirk felt Spock’s surprise. “Oh. You thought you were blocking.”

“It would seem you are quite attuned to me. I cannot block you out completely even when trying very hard. It is not as it was with T’Pring.”

“Do you want to cut me off completely?” Kirk could not keep the hurt from his voice.

_No. It pains me to know your absence even in part._

_Then why try?_

Spock put a hand to his head, shielding his eyes from Kirk’s gaze.

“Spock?” Kirk said. “What are you hiding?” He took Spock’s hand in his own and pulled it gently from Spock’s face. Spock was flushed bright green, and he jerked his hand from Kirk’s grasp with a tiny gasp. “Oh, right, sorry,” Kirk said, tension mounting within him. “Forgot.”

There was a long silence during which Kirk put his hands between his knees and tried to ignore his developing erection, which had got that much harder with Spock’s gasp.

“You know how to kiss, but it does not seem to have the same significance to you,” Spock said eventually. “Is there a human equivalent?”

Kirk frowned a moment, then realised what Spock had meant by “kiss”. The touch of the first two fingers of each party in gentle pressure and, if particularly fervent, the interlacing of fingers, the press of palms together, a near-painful tightness…     

Kirk smiled softly, and he felt his adoration of Spock’s ignorance pour through the meld. Spock shifted ever so slightly on the mattress. “Humans kiss with their—our—lips.”

_Lips!_

“Mhmm.” Kirk licked his lips, then sank his teeth into his bottom one. Like Spock, he shifted his weight, and when he did, he squeezed his thighs together, and the pressure between them swelled further.

“Perhaps you should show me, as I am not sure I understand.”

“Perhaps I should.”

Spock faced Kirk patiently, eyes open, mouth closed.

_Close your eyes_ , Kirk instructed. Spock obeyed. _And relax your mouth_.

Kirk cupped Spock’s chin and felt a rush of curiosity and excitement from Spock. Had he truly never been kissed? Kirk paused with his mouth mere inches from Spock’s. Spock’s eyes fluttered open, and for a brief second, they gazed at one another, until Spock’s curiosity became too much for Kirk to bear, and he closed his eyes, dipped forward, and pressed their lips together. Spock’s lips yielded at once, and they were soft, pliant, gentle, cautious. All Kirk got across the meld at first was a surprised surge from Spock, as though he had not expected a human kiss to be so pleasant.

_Just wait_ , Kirk thought, and swiftly licked Spock’s slit. Spock’s lips parted as though by reflex, and Kirk’s tongue slipped between them into Spock’s receptive mouth, which took him inside with the shocked ease of someone who had completely surrendered control. _Like it?_

Kirk received no coherent reply beyond a choked whimper. He released Spock’s chin and held Spock in his arms as Spock collapsed against him and a tender part of him, the human part, opened deep within.

_Is that a yes? Kirk asked slyly, ending the kiss._

This time, Spock, who had not reopened his eyes, issued a low rumbling noise from within his chest, and his body seemed to vibrate with the force of it, which grew louder with every inhalation and exhalation. The sound was oddly soothing to Kirk, who held Spock more tightly and kissed his cheek, the desire to protect and pamper heightening.

_Why, Spock, I had no idea you were part cat._

_Cat?_

_A terran species. Adorable. Cuddly. Pointy ears. Purrs just like you._ Kirk projected an image of a round-faced, fluffy-haired kitten to Spock. Kirk felt Spock’s scoff, something he would never do aloud, immediately.

_I am not purring_ , Spock replied, almost haughtily _. What you hear is a_ nah-ki-la.

_What’s that?_

_A noise of contentment and affection issued by vulcans in private, usually only with their mate._

_So, a purr._

_No. Nah-ki-la._

_Semantics._

Kirk kissed Spock again, and while their lips were still locked, threaded their fingers together. Spock, apparently overwhelmed, mentally begged Kirk to stop. Kirk pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, refraining from relying on the meld, a courtesy Spock had taught him by example.

Spock turned away from Kirk, arms crossed, brow low. “I am…afraid.”

“Afraid, what?”

“Simply afraid.”

“It’s new. I’m sorry. I’m going too fast.” Kirk mentally kicked himself. He should have known, should have _felt_ , but he must have ignored Spock’s discomfort, must not have recognised it through the haze of his own desire…

“Yes. And no. It is new, but you are not going too fast. You are not going fast enough.”

“What do you want me to do?” Kirk asked, reaching for Spock but stopping himself just in time, fingers brushing electrified air.

“What you have always wanted to do.”

Kirk thought briefly of throwing Spock onto the bed, lubing him up, and fucking him until he started to speak in contractions. “That? You want me to do that?” Kirk asked, shocked and certain Spock had seen his fantasy. “I thought you were the, uh, dominant type?”

_Only during pon farr. But everyone thinks that since I am the strong, stoic vulcan, I must want to be the dominant one who is in control all the time._ Spock had reverted to the meld, as he sometimes did when he spoke of sensitive things, as though it was less embarrassing to think them than utter them.

Kirk had to breathe slowly a few times to keep from screaming through the meld. _And you don’t want that?_ he asked calmly after a long moment. He had a million questions about Spock’s former lovers, but those would have to wait.

_No. I…_ And Kirk knew. Spock wanted to be dominated, just as Kirk had always dreamed of doing. Spock wanted a man to treat him like he was not intimidated by him, which Kirk had to admit was likely a difficult man to find. 

“You want to bottom,” Kirk said, his breath catching. “And you want to be…played with.”

_Yes. But…_

“What?”

_It will not be exactly as you imagine._

“That’s OK, it’s just a fantasy. Nothing’s ever as you imagine.”

_It might be different in a way you do not like._

“I doubt it. But what’re you worried about?”

_Vulcans do not worry_ , Spock admonished him.

Kirk sighed. “What do you think I might worry about?”

_There is something about me that I believe might disgust you._

“Spock,”Kirk said honestly, “nothing about you could ever, _ever_ —”

Spock seized Kirk by the shirtfront and, falling onto his back, dragged Kirk on top of him. Their lips collided violently as Spock seized Kirk’s hand in a death grip.

_You do not need lubricant. I make my own, much like a human female, but in greater quantity._

_That’s convenient. And fucking hot. Am I making you wet, Spock?_

_Yes._

Overcome, Kirk plunged a hand beneath the waistband of Spock’s trousers and pants, touching hot skin; hard, ridged cock; the inside of Spock’s slick thighs; and then, when Spock spread his legs, his perineum, which was even slipperier than his thighs.  

_That’s so damn sexy. Gods. I’m going to fuck you into next week._

Spock’s mind was unusually quiet, as though he was no longer capable of a rational thought. He spread his legs further and— _Damn, you’re flexible, Spock_ —there it was, his tight little entrance, a wrinkled ring of muscle that bowed when Kirk pressed into it but did not yield to light pressure.        

_Have you ever done this before?_ Kirk asked, knowing the answer.

_No. I have never met anyone like you._

_Like me?_

_Who knows me and my…desires… so completely._

Kirk’s excitement blossomed.

_You like that you will be the first to touch me in that way._

_’_ _Course I do, it’s a primal human possessive thing._

Spock’s purring amplified.

_What? Think it’s cute I’m happy to be the only guy to fuck you?_

_It appeals to me on some low level that you see me as yours in part because you are the only one to touch me—_ there _!_ Spock had done the equivalent of shouting through the meld when Kirk pressed a firm finger against Spock again, parting him ever so slightly.  

_You’re so sensitive._

Spock’s eyes were wide open, his lips apart, his usually immaculate hair out of place when Kirk ended their human kiss and gazed down at him.

“Don’t worry,” Kirk murmured, “I’ll take care of you.”

_Vulcans do not worry_.

_Sure, sure_.

Spock strong and dominant and caring was one thing, but Spock uncertain, nervous, and submissive was quite another.

“Shh, shh,” Kirk whispered as he stretched Spock and Spock whimpered, all the while insisting through the bond that Kirk continue. “I got you. It’s OK.” _I got you, babe_.

The first stroke in, Spock buried his face in the pillow.  

“Hey. Hey. Am I hurting you? I can stop. We don’t have to do this now. Or ever. It’s OK.”

_Keep going, I will tell you to stop if it is too much._

_If you’re sure…_

Spock reached behind him and yanked Kirk closer. Kirk, who had forgot Spock’s strength, felt his chest slap against Spock’s back. He looked down and saw he was entirely sheathed, and Spock’s legs and forearms were trembling. _I am certain, James_. _Your fantasies are mine_.

After that, they were quiet. Spock was extraordinarily tight and slick and…insatiable. Every time Kirk broke the silence to check in with him—“Doing OK?” “Does this hurt?” “Do you need a break?”—Spock replied with increasingly insistent affirmations until, after Kirk’s last question, Spock lost control and pulled Kirk’s fingers into his mouth and halfway down his throat.

“That much, Spock?” Kirk asked, pressing harder with his fingers until Spock gagged, then pressing harder yet. And then, because he knew, he somehow _knew_ Spock would like dirty and somewhat demeaning talk, “You like being fucked like a little bitch, don’t you? My little bitch. Not so big and strong now, are you?”

Spock continued to gag, and when Kirk leaned close against him during an especially deep thrust, he saw tears streaming down Spock’s cheeks.

“Little slut,” Kirk hissed into Spock’s ear. Spock’s ear twitched, turning closer to Kirk’s mouth. “My little slut. No one’s ever seen you like this, but I”—Kirk shot Spock an image of himself getting plowed and thoroughly wrecked through the meld—“I get to see you fucked like a whore.”

Kirk reached around and took Spock’s cock in his fist and worked the length of it.

“How many times can you come with me inside you?” Kirk whispered. “Are we different, you and I? Can you orgasm more than once for me? You like my hands, don’t you?” He plunged the hand in Spock’s mouth deeper. Wordless adoration and enthusiasm seeped across the meld. “Little vulcan whore. You like my hands more than you like my cock.”

When Spock came, it was a full-body, violently shaking affair, and for a long time, he could only communicate one word through the meld, and nothing verbally: _T’hy’la_. He repeated it multiple times with such feeling that Kirk eventually asked him what it meant.

_You do not know?_

_No._

_But your Vulcan is exceptional._

_It is?_ Kirk felt a flood of pride.

_(With the exception of the occasion upon which you told me you hoped to bed me over breakfast.)_

_That’s what I said?!_

_Yes. And you used the verb one would use to say, “to mount”._

_Gods. No wonder you pulverised that poor Romulan ramta. I must’ve seemed so creepy._

_I was illogically aroused. It was either pulverise the ramta and leave or present myself to you in front of the whole room._

_Gods_ , Kirk repeated. _I don’t think I appreciated just how long you’ve liked me back._

_Back?_

_Ha. Nice try._

_No try. Fact._

_We must agree to disagree._

Spock nuzzled Kirk. _It means friend, lover, and brother._  

_T’hy’la?_

_Yes._

_You vulcans have a word for everything, don’t you?_

_Would you expect anything less?_

_I’d be disappointed if there weren’t a word for us, T’hy’la._


End file.
